


Technically

by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Freckles, Gardens & Gardening, Getting Together, Jam, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 14:43:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion/pseuds/Thealmostrhetoricalquestion
Summary: “This is the worst day ever,” Teddy mutters to himself, throwing himself into one of the garden chairs. He absolutely does not mean it.He should be in the shed, digging out the shears and gardening gloves, but there’s literally nothing on this good green earth that could tear him away from the sight of James pushing the mower towards him in just a pair of jogging bottoms.





	Technically

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I’ve already written Jeddy-wise so some of this might feel familiar or similar, sorry about that! And there’s a bit of mild language in this and making out, with some sexual mentions throughout, but no smut. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy your sweets, goldentruth813! <3 Hope everyone else enjoys this too! Thanks!

The best day of Teddy’s life turns out to be a Saturday. He wakes up mid-morning without the incessant buzz of an alarm, warm and content, a pillow half over his head and his ankles tangled in cool cotton sheets. His dream fades as he blinks at the ceiling, and he no longer remembers the visions of pink, spiky hair, leaving a strange wistfulness sitting on his chest. 

There’s a light purr from above, and Teddy squints up to find Spook diligently licking one of his paws. 

“Somethin’ else sitting on my chest then,” Teddy says, grinning slowly to himself. He scratches Spook’s ear, and Spook butts his hand once before digging his claws into Teddy’s chest and jumping away. Teddy hisses and rubs his chest, sitting up with a sigh.

His bedroom is messy, still full of half-empty boxes, his clothes piled around the wardrobe rather than in it. The curtains are bundled on the floor. It’s been a couple of weeks since he moved out of his old place and into a new house and things still need unpacking and putting away. It drives Teddy a little mad: he doesn’t mind controlled chaos, like his office at the Ministry, with the pin-board and filing cabinet and spools of red string, but this is just mess. 

James is coming by - he checks the red clock by the bed - right about now, actually, and they’re supposed to be sorting out the garden and making something for Grandma Molly’s birthday later on, since homemade gifts are kind of a thing when it comes to Weasleys. A few years ago he helped Granddad Arthur make her a strange, adapted wireless that was definitely not supposed to explode and break a window. Last year, he, Albus and James went all in on the biggest cake they’d ever seen, and it was surprisingly not disastrous. This year, it’s just him and James working on something, since Scorpius and Albus are doing something secretive. 

He expects Albus will drop by later though, probably with Scorpius in tow, and force them all to listen to some new dark, gloomy music he bought last week in Camden, because that’s pretty much what always happens on a Saturday. Sometimes there’s sips of beer in the evening and sometimes there’s a game of Exploding Snap or two, and it’s good, but it’s always the same. 

He’s not expecting it to be the best day of his life. He’s expecting it to be an average, everyday Saturday, but then he opens the front door about twenty minutes later, still in his pyjamas with a mouthful of cereal, to find James standing on the gravel path in a pair of joggers. 

“It’s too early, and I’m hot and hungry,” James whines, slumping through the doorway with a cardboard box in his arms. Teddy steps back to let him in and shuts the door in a daze, watching as James dumps the box on the table and turns to aim a desperate expression at Teddy. 

“Feed me,” James pleads.

Teddy’s brain follows the words down a deep, dark rabbit hole. He blinks rapidly, bringing himself back to Earth with a thump, and swallows his cereal with some difficulty, considering how dry his throat suddenly is. 

“You, uh… Jamie?”

James cocks his head to the side, surveying Teddy warily. “Yeah? Fuck, have I got something on my face?” He scrubs at his cheeks, sleeves pulled down over the heels of his hands to rub the non-existent muck away. “Besides my usual handsome features, I mean.”

“What are you wearing?” Teddy finally gets out, although it comes out all strangled, like someone poked him in the throat just before he started speaking. 

James frowns down at himself, lifting his arms slightly as though he expects to find himself suddenly in a floor-length gown. Upon finding nothing but soft, worn clothes, he lifts his head up and quirks an eyebrow at Teddy. “A jumper?”

And he _is_ wearing a jumper, a dark blue thing with thumb holes and a frayed hem, and it looks good on him, comfortable, and it’s possibly one that he stole out of Teddy’s drawer some time ago, but that’s not what’s causing Teddy’s mind to slowly melt. 

“Right, right,” Teddy says absently, and he should really move into the kitchen, but his eyes are glued to James’s legs. They’re just grey joggers, with a little white drawstring, and they’re kind of loose and baggy, but they stretch a little over James’s thighs, and that’s, well. That’s something. 

James moves too fast for Teddy to do more than widen his eyes in surprise, and he suddenly finds a finger poking him in the cheek. 

“You’re being weird,” James informs him cheerfully. “Did you get replaced by some kind of pod-person? Scorpius gave me this Muggle book that had body-snatchers in it, but I feel like you’d fight them off easily.”

His hands slip down to squeeze Teddy’s biceps with an appreciative sound, winking, and Teddy rolls his eyes and pushes James away gently. Now that he can’t see the joggers, he feels a little more human, and it’s easier to walk into the kitchen and grab the milk from the fridge while James settles into one of the wooden chairs and snatches up a box of Rita-Bix. 

“I still can’t believe you bought these,” James says, with a snort. He shakes the box so that several wheat biscuits fall into the bowl that Teddy passes him. 

“I like to do my bit to support the family,” Teddy says, smirking as he leans back against the counter. It had been Hugo’s idea to make something of a joke out of Rita Skeeter, after one article too many about the Potter-Weasley family, and they had come up with a line of cereal that had the Wizarding World in a fit of whispered laughter. Teddy has at least three boxes tucked in his cupboard. 

James laughs as he spoons bits of cereal into his mouth, collapsing against the chair and spreading his legs a little, one knee jiggling up and down. It baffles and endears Teddy, that James can’t sit still for more than a minute, and yet instead of looking nervous or anxious, he just exudes confidence. He lets himself admire James for a moment, the way his hand moves as he talks, the way he leans back in his chair like it’s a throne and his Kingdom is secure, and then Teddy makes himself look away. He reaches over and pulls up the blinds, letting in the sunlight and flipping on the wireless as he putters about, loading dishes into the sudsy sink and humming under his breath. 

He catches James watching him between bites, a strange look on his face, and each look squeezes his lungs until there’s no breath left in his body and he feels light-headed. James’s attention always leaves him feeling like he’s flying. 

“Where’s his Highness?” James asks, glancing around as though Spook might be hiding under a table, waiting to pounce. 

“Probably off torturing some poor bumble-bee.” Teddy sighs. “He keeps trying to eat them, and then I end up at the Creature-Healers again.” 

James laughs. “I guess I’ll have to cuddle him later.” 

He digs into his cereal again, and Teddy wonders if there’s ever been a living thing, human or beast, that’s _not_ liked James. 

“So, what’ve you got planned for me today, then?” James asks, as he finishes a story about a ‘right twat’ he saw on the Tube. He drops the spoon in the empty bowl with a clatter and stretches. His jumper rides up, and Teddy gets a good look at exactly how low those joggers sit on his hips. 

Teddy suddenly has a lot of plans for James, and most of those plans involve a bed, or at least somewhere vaguely horizontal, and very minimal clothing. The joggers can stay, though, for a while. 

He realises James is still waiting for an answer, and busies himself with a tea-towel so he won’t drool all over the place. 

“I’m gonna make you mow the lawn,” Teddy says, smirking at the whine he hears behind him. 

“Why can’t _you_ mow the lawn while I lounge around drinking lemonade?” James complains, even though Teddy never said anything about lemonade. He’s probably going to have to make some now though. James pushes himself reluctantly off the chair regardless of his whining and takes a sort of running leap, building momentum so he can throw himself at Teddy’s back. Teddy doesn’t stumble, but he does roll his eyes as he hoists James higher, hands under his thighs, thick beneath the soft joggers. James’s laughter is like honey in his ears. 

It’s a bit of a mess. Teddy’s heart, and the garden. He’s been so focused on getting the inside of the house liveable that he’s completely neglected the garden ever since he moved in. It’s wild, overgrown with tangled weeds and snapping flowers. Bees and butterflies settle on flat petals, and waxy leaves hang from the tree, which hangs over the low wall and douses a plot of earth in shade. And he’s been so focused on _not_ focusing on James that he’s forgotten how little it takes for him to fall even deeper in love. 

James slips off his back at the edge of the patio and gestures grandly for Teddy to lead the way. There’s an old, rusty shed in one corner of the garden, and Teddy picks his way through the grass in his slippers to heave the old lawn-mower out of the dark, cobweb-ridden confines. 

“Here you go,” Teddy says, grunting as the pile of sputtering gears and greasy cogs lands on the ground in front of an unimpressed James. It’s not an ordinary mower, although it might have been once upon a time, before Arthur got his hands on it. “You work out how to get that running while I go and change.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” James says, eyeing the dirt stains and dust all over Teddy’s flannel bottoms, but he shrugs and rolls up his sleeves anyway, kneeling down to pull out his wand as he examines the mower. 

Teddy shucks his clothes as soon as he’s in his bedroom. It’s nice and cool inside, but even the brief stint out in the garden has left him hot and sweaty, so he jumps in the shower for a quick sluice down. He’s probably going to need another one by the time he’s finished pottering around in the dirt, but the feel of cold water on his skin is heavenly. He distantly hears a motor rumble to life and a happy shout, and he can picture James jumping up and prancing around, his arms held up triumphantly. The neighbours are in for a treat today, that’s for sure, Teddy thinks fondly, as he rinses shampoo out of his hair. 

He throws on a pair of cut-off jeans and a paint-splattered shirt, the same ones he used when James came over to paint the living room, and shoves his feet into a pair of work boots. He can see James through the kitchen window as he wanders down to grab a cold drink, because it might not be boiling yet, but England only gets about three days of summer a year, and they're usually the most painful three days in existence. 

He puts two tall glasses on the sideboard and digs around in the fridge for the fizzy lemon and lime juice, because he can’t be arsed to make anything from a scratch. When he turns back to the window, James is stripping off his jumper. He’s not wearing anything underneath - because of course he’s not, he _lives_ to torture Teddy - which means Teddy has a nice view of the dimples in his back and the freckles that speckle his skin like shadowy constellations in a pale sky. He hasn’t been in the sun long enough this summer to get a proper, deep tan yet, but he’s still darker than Teddy. 

James turns, ruffling his hair as he picks up the handle for the lawn mower, and Teddy gets a good look at the way his hips curve and the slight definition forming in his abs, and promptly spills lemon juice all over the counter. 

After he’s mopped up the mess, Teddy brings both glasses out into the garden and sets them on the rickety round table near the door, where the patio is. James is over near the wall, dealing with a stubborn patch of grass, and the shade from the tree throws him into shadow. Teddy groans internally as James bends down to fiddle with one of the cogs of the lawnmower, the fabric of his joggers pulling tight around his arse and the backs of his thighs. 

“This is the worst day ever,” Teddy mutters to himself, throwing himself into one of the garden chairs. He absolutely does not mean it. He should be in the shed, digging out the shears and gardening gloves, but there’s literally nothing that could tear him away from the sight of James pushing the mower towards him in just a pair of jogging bottoms. 

“Why can’t I just use a spell to cut the grass?” James asks, as he draws near. The lines he’s making in the grass are neat enough, the laces of his trainers trailing in the gaps left behind. The mower makes a low, spluttering hum as it encroaches on Teddy’s space. 

“Do you _know_ a spell to cut grass?” Teddy asks. 

“I don't see why that’s relevant, Edward.”

Teddy snorts, reclining lazily in the chair. James eyes him for a moment, gaze flickering up the length of Teddy’s legs, and up over his shoulders, before he grumbles to himself and begins the trek back up the garden. 

“Fine, but you better not sit there all day or I’ll mow you next!” James shouts over his shoulder. He starts cackling then, his head thrown back, the sound startling several small birds nestled on the lopsided feeder. Teddy rolls his eyes, getting to his feet and heading for the shed so he can dig out a pair of pliers and a trowel. 

He spends a while excavating the flowerbeds while James kicks the mower in the background. The kitchen window is open, soft rock pouring quietly from the wireless, and the sound merges with the scent of freshly-cut grass to create the feeling of summer. 

He stands up, knees aching, and nods down at one of the empty flowerbeds. There are some things he can use spells for, but most of it he needs to do by hand, and there’s something satisfying about it, if nothing else. He can see why Harry and Neville find it soothing, to bumble around in their vegetable patches. 

The dulcet sounds of James complaining has faded into nothing, and Teddy turns to find him flopped on the ground, the grass sticking to his skin. His limbs are splayed all over the place like a beached starfish. A gnome is tugging on the cuff of his joggers, one fist waving viciously. 

Teddy levitates it over the wall and into the neighbours garden, smirking at the stream of undoubtedly offensive gibberish that fills the air. 

“Ah, music to my ears,” James says, propping himself up on his elbows to watch as the gnome pops out of view. He lets Teddy lever him up and shakes the grass from his hair, and then strolls over to down his drink in one gulp. Sweat gleams on his neck, long and tipped back. James smacks his lips and puts the glass down, swivelling to grin at Teddy, a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

“So, I was thinking we should check out the hose,” James says. “You know, for educational purposes.” 

_I’ve got a hose you can check out._

Teddy immediately regrets his own existence. He has to try very hard not to pick up the trowel he abandoned in the flowerbeds and dig his own grave. 

“You’re not spraying me with water,” Teddy says, instead, when James waves a hand in front of his faces, eyebrows raised. 

“I swear you’re on another planet, Teddy,” James says, shaking his head with a grin. “We still have to make jam after this.”

“Jam?” 

“Yeah,” James says, making the glasses float through the kitchen window and into the sink. “For Grandma’s birthday. She wants homemade stuff, right? And she’s always baking stuff, like bread and scones, so she needs jam, and I can make jam.” 

Teddy raises one eyebrow, which flickers from his usual blue to a dubious purple. “You can make jam.” 

James cracks a yawn and stretches on his tip-toes, the sunlight gliding down his chest and hair peeking out above his joggers. “There’s no need to sound so bloody unsure. ‘Course I can make jam, I was _born_ with jam-making skills.” 

“Uh-huh,” Teddy says, nodding slightly. His tongue, he thinks, is either lolling out of his mouth or in the midst of being swallowed. Either option makes it hard to form anything other than gormless sounds. 

“Merlin, did someone put something in your cereal?” James says, shoving him gently. His eyes are glittering. “I know. I’ve got something that’ll wake you up.” 

The words plunge Teddy so deep into a fantasy that he doesn’t notice the garden hose snaking towards him until cold water blasts him in the face. 

*

Thing is, James has always had a habit of wearing jeans that sink a little too low on his hips, revealing honey-coloured skin, bunches of freckles, and two lovely back dimples. 

Teddy has always had a habit of staring. 

When they’re not outside, James is always shirtless. Always. As soon as he gets to Teddy’s house, he kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt, and he wanders around in just his jeans and a pair of socks that he’s nicked from Teddy’s drawer. Teddy can see everything. He can see his smooth chest, the slight softness to his stomach as James lounges on the sofa. He can see the freckles that dot every inch of skin as James folds his brought-over washing haphazardly. He can see the dimples in his back when James turns at the sink, little tantalising dips just above the waistband of his jeans. 

They drive Teddy wild. 

And the thing is, James has always had these habits, and he’s always flirted with Teddy, the way he flirts with most people, but today, there’s something about the joggers on his hips that makes the atmosphere a little different. There’s something about the way James stands and looks at Teddy, and the way Teddy’s letting himself look back. 

James is still shirtless, standing in the kitchen towelling off his hair from the impromptu water fight in the garden, which involved Teddy turning on the sprinklers out of revenge and James yelping like a scalded cat. Teddy comes in with the same clothes, just promptly dried with a spell, and chucks James a t-shirt dug out from one of his boxes. It’s a faded _Nineteen Nifflers_ top, a weird band that Albus introduced him to that Teddy actually likes. He’s even got two tickets for him and Albus to go and see them in the Autumn. 

“Thanks,” James says, pulling it over his head. He hasn’t dried his joggers yet, and the thing is, water makes the grey fabric kind of heavy, drags it down a bit. Makes it look like they would slip off easily with one tug. Teddy’s hands twitch. 

“No problem,” Teddy says. He shoves his hands into his pockets and strolls towards the counter. “I’ve got frozen stuff in the freezer if you’re still hot.” 

“I’m always hot, Teddy,” James says, with a wink. “Don’t you forget it.”

It’s cheesy and cocky and exactly the kind of thing that Teddy loves about him. It’s not just joggers that make Teddy want him. 

Teddy always wants James. He wants him sleepy-eyed and messy-haired and rumpled in the early morning, and he wants him loud and bright and mischievous in the day and he wants him quiet and loving in the evening. 

He wants him even when he’s staying over, and he’s at the sink, flicking suds at Teddy and leaving the dirty pans in ‘to soak,’ rather than washing them properly. 

James flings the towel at him as he ducks towards the freezer, digging around for an ice-pole. Teddy catches it before it can hit him in the face and drapes it over the chair, disappearing into the living room to check the box that James brought with him. 

He hears a shout from the kitchen when the box rattles in his arms. “It’s jam stuff!”

It is, indeed, jam stuff, and James does not, in fact, know how to make jam. 

“We have a recipe,” James says, squinting at the page. “And we have all the stuff. So technically, the outcome should be jam.”

“Technically,” Teddy agrees. The pan on the stove looks like it’s full of flobberworm mucus, and the way James keeps scooping some up on a spatula and letting it plop back into the pan makes Teddy a little queasy. He’s got a strong stomach, working in the Auror Department, but he’s nowhere near well equipped enough to deal with whatever’s simmering in his kitchen. 

“I’m confused,” James says, after a moment of silent stirring. “Did one of us accidentally add a corpse to this?” 

Teddy covers his nose to avoid the foul stench pervading off the ‘jam’ and starts laughing. His eyes are watering, but he doesn’t care because James’s face is a mixture of affronted and amused, and Vanishing the mess in the pan only makes him look more offended. 

“I think you might need to chuck the pan too,” James says, resigned as he puts down the spatula. He’s grinning, though, so Teddy doesn’t think he’s taking the loss too hard. 

“C’mon, we’ve got jars, and we’re going to fill them with jam, and Molly’s probably going to cry and then smack you round the head and tell you that you shouldn’t have bothered.” 

James flips him off. “You’re part of this too, Teddy. You’re not getting away from the tears that easily. Pass me another ice-pole while I check this, will you?” 

“Sure thing, sweets,” Teddy says, almost stumbling on the way to the fridge when his words register. James makes a little coughing noise behind him, and Teddy soldiers on. He refuses to look back to see if James is blushing. 

The second batch of jam is better. James sucks the ice-pole as he runs his finger down the pages of the recipe book. Teddy sorts the fruit and organises the jam jars and James does the rest, and Teddy gets to watch him hum to himself and move his hips and lick melted orange ice off his fingers. 

“This one might not kill anyone,” James declares cheerily, slipping the ice-pole out of his mouth with a small pop. The noise alone is probably going to be the cause of Teddy’s demise, and if the jam doesn’t kill him, the sight of James’s red, plump lips will. He averts his eyes while James digs around in the drawers for a ladle, the ice-pole melting on the side, leaving a puddle of sticky residue behind. 

Unfortunately, averting his eyes from his mouth just draws his attention to the rest of James. And there’s plenty for him to admire. He studies the shape of James’s shoulders, the way his hair fluffs up at the back. He definitely does not look at the joggers, because it’s hot enough in the kitchen already without a case of spontaneous combustion. He drags his eyes along the back of James’s neck instead, his gaze fixating on the little specks of darker colour, smooth and soft dots. 

“You have freckles here,” Teddy says absently, brushing one finger lightly over the back of James’s neck. He’s bent over the stove, and he stiffens at Teddy’s touch, before relaxing. 

“I have freckles everywhere,” James says. His voice is casual, but there’s something there that makes Teddy realise what he’s doing, and he jerks his hand away. He stays stock still for a moment, and then releases a breath. He should be quiet, really, and he should find something to do with his hands so he won’t be tempted to touch. Not that he usually ever would without James’s permission, but the line between what’s casual and friendly and what’s more romantic seems wonky and out of shape lately. 

He should be quiet, and step back over the line. 

He can’t help himself though. “I think I like those ones best, though, sweetheart.” 

James fumbles the ladle, and Teddy takes a step back, clearing his throat. 

“I’ll just get a tea-towel to dry the jam jars,” Teddy says nonsensically, before high-tailing it out of the room. The living room is cooler, and very much absent of tea-towels, and Teddy is a wizard who can use magic to dry things like jam jars, and he’s also extremely fucking stupid. 

“Such a twat,” Teddy groans, dropping onto the sofa and passing a hand over his face. 

“Mmm, I agree.”

Teddy opens one eye and stares at James. James doesn’t seem too bothered by the turn of events, although he looks a little like he might start laughing. His cheeks are flushed and he looks like everything Teddy’s ever told himself he couldn’t have. 

“Everyone thinks I’m the dramatic one, but this takes the cake,” James says, crossing his arms and looking as though he’s enjoying this immensely. “I’m assuming you’re freaking out like a big pixie because you think you tainted my beautiful skin with your filthy old man hands.”

Teddy pauses in the act of sitting up properly. “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, probably.” 

James waves a hand. “Yeah, but something like that, right?” 

“Right,” Teddy agrees quietly, his heart racing. He’s not sure exactly what’s about to happen. James takes a breath, and Teddy copies him, steeling himself. 

“What part of my entire existence makes you think I don’t want you all over me?” James asks, arching an eyebrow. He’s too smug, but he’s also slightly nervous, and it makes Teddy suspicious immediately. 

And if he thinks about it, things start to fall into place. 

“The ice-poles,” he says slowly. “And the shirtlessness. And the water fight. Fuck, and the joggers.” 

James, who had been grinning like a fiend for most of Teddy’s checklist, suddenly stops and snorts. 

“Fucking hell, no. I just threw these on this morning. It was either this or my Quidditch trousers, and I _know_ you love them, but if I’d known these would have finally given you a kick up the arse, I’d have worn them years ago.” He plucks at the fabric of his joggers and adds pointedly, “ _Before_ I was of age, which I am now, so maybe you should actually get up and do something.” 

Teddy blinks at him slowly. “You’ve been doing this for months.” 

“Kind of thought you’d have figured it out sooner,” James says, smirking. He’s leaning up against the wall of the living room, the one they painted. Teddy takes him in with wide, hungry eyes and stands up slowly, discarding his self-pity in favour of stalking across the room.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Teddy asks softly, stopping a few inches away from James. James shrugs, running a hand sheepishly through his hair. 

“I dunno. I guess I wasn’t sure? You never said anything either, and I wanted to make sure you wanted me before I ruined what we have. I know everyone says I rush in, and I’m not ashamed of that, but I can be careful with this.” 

Teddy breathes in deeply and lets it out in a shuddering breath. He never thought he’d hear that, not from James. He never thought it was mutual. 

“How did you not realise I was trying to seduce you, you stupid prat?” James says it fondly, but Teddy still narrows his eyes. 

“You’re a much better fucking actor than you think you are,” Teddy says, crowding him up against the wall. He tips James’s chin up and lowers his voice. “And you really didn’t need to seduce me, Jamie. You had me from the start.” 

James sucks in a breath, and then clears his throat to cover up the hitch. “I know I didn’t need to, but it was fun watching you get all worked up.”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know and that’s not on, not in Teddy’s book. There should never be a moment where James doubts whether Teddy wants him. 

James’s eyes are bright and fierce, daring, and Teddy ducks down, and then they’re kissing. It’s heated and fast, hands grasping at skin, and this is James that he’s kissing, finally, after what feels like forever, and he can’t get enough. He slides his hands down his back, feeling the way the muscles shift before palming James’ arse, feeling soft, warm fabric beneath his hands, and James arches into him, rubbing up against Teddy’s jeans. His hands are in Teddy’s hair, tugging but not pulling, not yet. 

“Bed,” James mutters, breaking the bruising kiss. “We need a bed for what I want you to do to me.” 

“Don’t know about that,” Teddy murmurs, pressing James a little more firmly into the wall. “I think we could manage right here.”

James’s eyes darken, and Teddy kisses him again, softer and slower, moving languidly against him. He’s about to lead James upstairs when there’s a thump at the door, like someone shouldered in, and James lets his head thud back against the wall. Teddy breaks away to breathe, and he knows his hair is probably all sorts of colours right now. 

“Teddy, open the door!” Albus calls. “I forgot your key.” 

“What a wizard,” Teddy says drily. 

“I heard you! Is James there too? Tell him to get off his arse and open the door, we’re carrying stuff,” Albus shouts, voice muffled through the wood. 

“Fuck off!” James yells, and Teddy clamps a hand over his mouth so he can’t add anything else before bursting into laughter. He can hear Albus’s outraged yell and Scorpius’s worried tone, and he dips his head to press a kiss to James’s neck, mouthing at the skin to feel the way James shudders beneath him. 

“We can do more of this later, if you’re nice to your brother,” Teddy murmurs. 

James makes a disgruntled, highly unimpressed noise, grumbling until Teddy takes his hand away. He gets squinted at for a bit while Albus drops whatever he’s holding and hammers on the door, wronged and wanting to make sure that the world knows it, and then James sighs. 

“I’ll be nice to my brothers boyfriend, and that’s the best you’re going to get out of me. Even your cock couldn’t get me to compromise on that, Teddy, old bean.” He pats Teddy commiseratingly on the shoulder. 

Teddy snorts, pinching James lightly in the side and dropping a kiss to his mouth before pulling away. 

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Teddy says, voice so soft that it sounds like a confession. He doesn’t need more words for James to know that he loves him, but he’d like to say them anyway.

“And do more,” James says, with an eyebrow wiggle. Albus interrupts the fond moment with a string of curse words that has Scorpius exclaiming from behind the door, and they both sigh. 

“It’s a shame we threw away the first load of jam,” James says, stalking towards the door and snagging Teddy’s hand on the way. “I reckon I know just the wanker who could have taste-tested it for us.”

Teddy laughs, and holds his hand tightly. He doesn’t plan on letting go for a long, long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <3 Please let me know what you thought, either on here or tumblr, same name! <3


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